


Life in Color

by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod



Series: Life in Color [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthdays, Family, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Happy, Snowball Fight, Team Free Will, genuine happy moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod/pseuds/shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: The Winchester's lives have been filled to the brim with pain and loss, that much is apparent. But even in the face of it, there are still some moments of levity to be had. This is a oneshot series of happy moments from their lives (because they deserve many more). *future chapters will be posted as standalone stories in the series*Chapter 9: Dean is seven when he sees Ghostbusters for the first time and has to ask John if that's what he does for work.“Hey, dad?”“Hm?”“Are you afraid of ghosts?” Dean’s face would already be morphing into a smile before he asked the question.And John, too, would smile, the stress and tiredness of the job washing off him just for a moment. He’d catch Dean’s glance in the mirror and reply, possibly in a bit of a stage voice, “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”Chapter 10: With a little over three months left before Dean's deal comes due, Sam can't say no when their latest case at an arcade presents an opportunity for some laser tag.Requests are welcome!!





	1. Meteor Shower

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write some one-shots about happy moments from the Winchester (and Castiel)'s lives because let's be honest, angst is great, but so is smiling, and the boys deserve to do more of it. Some of the stories may be bittersweet or have h/c undertones, but they will all be 95% happy, I promise :)  
Since I don't have endless ideas, requests are more than welcome! If there's anything happy you'd like to see, let me know! Thanks for reading!  
Title comes from one of my favorite Onerepublic songs that never ceases to make me smile.

Sam had been watching the sky for the past half hour, keeping one eye on it and one eye on the road in front of him. After seven straight hours behind the wheel and little sleep the night before and while nursing an injury, Sam had practically forced Dean into the passenger seat and demanded the keys.

He had been met with some grumbling from his brother, but an hour later when the sun set, he was out cold, arms folded across his chest, head turned towards the window as the Impala rumbled beneath them.

They had passed into Kansas an hour or two ago, and considering they were only about twenty minutes from the bunker, Sam was taking the drive a bit slower. He was looking for something. Open space, clear skies, no lights around.

Dean hadn’t noticed the car slowing down, which Sam took as a sign of how tired he really was, but he knew this was worth waking his brother up for.

Eventually, he found a small turnoff spot next to some wide open fields in the middle of nowhere. It was perfect. Sam shut off the car, checked his phone, and smiled a bit before he nudged Dean awake as gently as he could.

“Why’re’we’st’ped,” Dean muttered all together, not fully awake, but aware enough to tell that they weren’t stopped because they were at the bunker. “If you beat her up, Sammy, I swear to-“ he began to threaten.

Sam cut him off with a chuckle. “Your Baby’s fine, Dean. Just stopped for a few minutes,” he said, and looked out the windshield again, as if waiting for something.

That had Dean more awake, and soon he was shifting so he was sitting fully upright in the seat, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You gonna fill me in on why you stopped us in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere?”

“We’re fifteen minutes from the bunker, give or take, so we can head back whenever you feel like it,” Sam replied a bit vaguely, and shot his brother a smirk before he got out of the car and closed the door behind him. Even outside, he could hear his brother’s confused grumblings and laughed to himself because of it.

He took up residence leaning against the hood of the car, looking at the stars like they had done many times in the past. Eventually Dean came out to join him, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“Nice view,” he commented with a bit of a smirk of his own as he leaned next to Sam and looked up at the sky. Sam looked at his brother for a moment, and though he could tell Dean was trying, he was really tired and probably wanted nothing more than to be at the bunker on his memory foam mattress with Netflix. But he wouldn’t voice that because if Sam wanted to stay and watch the stars for a few minutes, or however long, that mattered more than some bruises and lost sleep.

“Yeah, it is,” Sam nodded back. He was tempted to check his phone again, he knew they only had a few minutes before Dean would get a bit antsy, despite his best attempts to hide it.

Still, waiting under the stars wasn’t a bad way to spend a few minutes. There was hardly any light save for the stars themselves, and the plants in the fields swayed slightly under the light breeze. The stars themselves were dotted across the sky, some of them clumped together.

Sometimes they’d try to name all the constellations. Sam would usually win, but Dean knew his fair share as well, and wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with his brother on who knew more. More often than not, it was a pretty close race.

Even now, Sam could see Dean eyeing the stars, then tilting his head a bit, as if he were mentally naming them all. When he did start to shift, about fifteen minutes later, Sam held up a hand.

“Five more minutes, okay?” he asked, and looked to Dean.

“Hey, all I’m saying is that stargazing is great, but maybe not after a wendigo hunt through a forest two states over. That’s all,” Dean put his hands up defensively, but leaned back against the Impala.

Sam was counting the seconds in his head, having barely passed a minute before he checked his phone and looked back up. Then he saw it. A bright white streak that seemed to start in the middle of the sky and then cross down to the left.

He hurriedly pointed to it, smile lighting up on his face as bright as the stars themselves. “You see that?”

Dean obviously had, as he too was grinning and watching the space where the star had seemingly fallen. Another thirty seconds passed and there was another streak, a bit smaller this time, but still easily visible amongst the mostly black sky.

“Meteor shower?” Dean asked, his gaze not leaving the sky in fear that he would miss one.

“Mhm,” Sam hummed in affirmation. “Stargazing is great, you’re right, but the shower hit its peak tonight, and there’s clear skies, didn’t think we should miss it. They’re not exactly common things,” he explained, though he knew he didn’t really need to.

All Dean needed to see was a streak of light across the sky and he was sold. They had loved looking at the stars since they were kids, but meteor showers had always been a favorite of both brothers. No two were exactly alike, and often times they missed the showers because they were either on a hunt or staying in a town with too much light pollution to see anything. The past few years especially, they’d been too busy to sit down and enjoy one, even around the bunker.

And yeah, it was cold outside, but the smiles on both their faces said they didn’t really care.

“How long’s it go on for?” Dean asked a minute later when two more streaks passed by.

Sam shrugged. “Site said all night, but it depends on where you are. But we can head back whenever,” he added quickly, knowing his brother was tired, as was he, just not to the same degree.

“Whenever, huh?” Dean said. He quirked an eyebrow up at Sam, and tore his gaze away from the stars to head back to the Impala. For a split second, Sam thought he was about to get in, as five or so meteors was enough for his night.

Instead, he returned with a few clean blankets they kept in the trunk for…various reasons, and spread one of them out on a flatter portion of land next to the car. The other two he bunched into shapes that resembled rectangles before he lay down on one and patted the other side.

“Already got thrown into a tree today, no way I’m busting my neck looking up at the sky for a few hours,” he commented, and got himself comfortable.

It only took Sam another second to join Dean, immediately glad for his brother’s idea. Laying down they could see the full expanse of the sky and the stars in all their glory. Another large white streak passed by, with a smaller one on its tail, that actually had Dean laughing.

“That one was good. More like that!” he shouted up at the sky itself, still smiling. Sam laughed along with him, relishing in the sound of their combined voices mixed with the silence of the night.

The Winchesters left the site along with the rising sun a few hours later. Sam was still driving, and Dean didn’t complain, and neither could wipe the slight smirks off their faces. Dean had tried keeping track, but lost count once they passed a hundred ten, and there had been many more after. Sam wished they had one of those long exposure cameras to capture it with, and while Dean laughed a bit because ‘what the hell else would they do with it after the meteor shower?’ he agreed that yes, it would’ve been cool to use that night.

Sam was just as careful with the Impala on the way back to the bunker, but they still pulled into the garage about fifteen minutes after leaving the site, as promised. Once the engine was off, they both sat in their respective seats for a minute, enjoying the momentary contentment they both had.

“Thanks, Sam,” Dean eventually said, breaking the silence as he turned to smile at his little brother. His expression was a tired one, but there was light in his eyes as he said it.

“No problem,” Sam smiled back, “glad we were able to catch it.”

“Same here,” Dean nodded back in agreement before he stretched out his arms and rolled his neck. “Though if there are any more in the next eight hours, tell me how awesome they were after the fact, I can hear the mattress calling me from the garage.”

Sam laughed a bit under his breath and rolled his eyes. “Meteor shower in broad daylight, I’ll be sure to send pictures,” he commented.

“Ha ha,” Dean laughed back sarcastically, and got up and out of the car before he went to grab their duffels from the trunk. He tossed Sam his over the car, and Sam in turn tossed Dean back the keys.

The garage light went out as they left, images of the white streaks across the black sky still fresh in their minds.


	2. Snowballs (AKA 'Target Practice')

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys are six and ten in the first half, and adults in the second. Who doesn't love a story about snow in August? ;)

The Impala came to a halt in one of the snowed over parking spaces outside the motel. Dean didn’t even bother looking at the sign to see which one it was, nor did he know what state they were in. All he knew was that it was dark and they had been driving for a while. At the end of the day, it was another few day stop at a no-name motel in the middle of nowhere with snow.

“Stay inside, I’ll be back with a room in a few minutes,” John instructed, seeing his eldest boy was awake in the back seat. Dean replied with a nod, and looked to Sam, who was leaned up against the door fast asleep.

John tried to open and close his door as gently as he could, but the old beast’s metal doors were heavy and squealed, leading to Sam being woken up as soon as it was closed.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean greeted, seeing his brother awake and rubbing at his eyes.

“What time is it?” the younger boy mumbled, looking away from the window to Dean.

“No clue, but it’s dark and snowing outside if that tells you anything,” Dean shrugged, not thinking much of either observation. They had been in the snow plenty of times, it was basically just cold powder.

But the way Sam’s eyes lit up at the knowledge changed all that. “Snow?” he asked excitedly, suddenly much more awake. “Can we go play in it, Dean, can we?”

Dean chuckled, but eventually shook his head. “Dad said to stay put, and besides, you don’t want to get all your clothes wet.”

Sam thought it over for a moment before he nodded, obviously defeated, and looked down to his lap. He wouldn’t put up a fight though, because Dean had said so and his reasoning made sense. Still…

“Snow is pretty cool though, if we hang close to the car…” Dean started, smile creeping onto his face in an effort to bring Sam’s spirits back up. Dad couldn’t tell them to stay inside the car if Sam really wanted to be outside, that just wouldn’t work.

Sam was grinning back at Dean and out of the car before he could say anything else. Dean followed suit, his boots crunching in the snow outside. It was still coming down in a slow drift, and a few inches covered the parking lot. Not enough to make a snowman or anything, but it was still there.

“It’s cold,” Sam laughed, head tilted up to the sky as snowflakes got caught in the hair he refused to let Dean or Dad touch.

“Duh, it’s snow, ‘supposed to be cold,” Dean replied, smirking as similar flakes landed and quickly disappeared onto his hands. He looked over to Sam, whose back was turned to him as he watched the snow fall around some of the lights by the motel manager’s office.

That was all it took for Dean to bend down, scoop up some snow, make it into a ball, and lob it over at Sam. It hit him square in the shoulder and exploded into puffy white chunks.

“Hey!” Sam spun around and brushed snow off his jacket. “You said we couldn’t play in it.”

“Nuh uh. This isn’t playing, this is target practice, there’s a difference,” Dean countered and began to make another ball.

Sam, now grinning, dropped behind the Impala before the next ball could be thrown, so it hit the car instead. While down, he made his own and waited until Dean bent down to throw it. The snowball hit the top of Dean’s head, which made Sam laugh out loud.

“I got you!” he announced proudly as Dean dusted the snow from his hair, trying and failing to frown as he did so.

“Oh yeah?!” Dean called back, hitting Sam in the chest with one as Sam got him back in the same spot. “Now I got you!”

They continued like that for another minute or so, and by that time, they were both shivering and covered in powdery white, but the smiles on their faces were all worth it. At least they were until John’s booming voice came over them.

“I told you to stay inside,” he said, with a shake of his head. He wasn’t angry, as he normally was, he just sounded tired. “What are you doing?”

“Target practice,” Sam answered immediately, tossing a snowball back and forth between his hands.

“Target practice, hm? Let me see,” he gestured for the ball. Sam ducked his head and handed it over before he started making his way back to the car. Dean watched the whole thing unfold, his adrenaline gradually fading down as Sam got his hand on the door handle. That was, until Dean noticedshift in his dad’s expression, like the tiredness was lifted for a moment and a rare smirk crosse chis face.

He raised his hand and threw the snowball, which hit Sam in the back, making him spin around, not expecting to see that his dad was the one to have thrown it.

“Five minutes of target practice, then we’re going to our room,” John lay down the law, which Dean replied to with a snowball expertly aimed at his father’s chest.

John broke into a full fledged smile and began to scoop more up, with Sam following suit.

When the five minutes ended, the Winchesters were thoroughly cold and wet, but happier than they had been in a long time while they made their way to the motel room.

* * *

Dean first noticed the snow outside when he pulled into the motel lot, but didn’t think anything else of it. Sam let him carry both bags, claiming that he had to grab the cooler out of the back seat. For what reason, Dean didn’t know, or really care, he was just looking forward to finally getting some sleep.

He carried both bags, switching them to one hand so he could get out the key with the other. As he was turning it into the locked door, something connected with his right shoulder. He quickly opened the door the rest of the way before he looked over his said shoulder at his sasquatch of a brother, standing innocently by the Impala, traces of snow on his fingertips.

“Did you just…?” Dean trailed off, sure he must have missed something. Really, a snowball? Was Sam actually five?

“What? This?” Sam brought out another ball from behind his back and chucked it, where it exploded against Dean’s chest. “Just target practice, right?” he asked, eyes light and smile gleaming.

Dean took another look at his brother and rolled his shoulders, depositing the duffel bags inside the room before he closed the door again. “Target practice, huh?” he asked, bending down to get some snow of his own. “Then you’d better start running.”

He threw it at Sam, who ducked out of the way just in time with a laugh, and proceeded to the other side of the Impala for cover.

Dean smiled back and shook his head before he bent down to roll up another ball. A hot shower and some sleep could wait a few more minutes. Right now, he had to make sure his little brother knew that he could still throw a snowball with pinpoint accuracy, even in a motel parking lot.


	3. Bunnies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt came from kaosdolls3 over on ff.n who requested a story about the boys investigating a pet store where Dean wanders off and finds some baby bunnies. It was too cute not to write.   
Requests are still open!

Dean kept fiddling with the small badge on the front of his shirt after they had pulled up outside the back of the pet shop, and it was starting to drive Sam crazy.

“Dude,” he batted Dean’s hands away from the seemingly offensive piece of metal, “it’s fine, leave it alone.”

“This feels stupid,” Dean muttered, and looked back at himself in the rearview mirror.

Sam simply rolled his eyes in return. “Right, because going in as two FBI agents investigating an animal case would go over well. Animal control was the safest way to go,” Sam reminded.

“Fine, whatever, can we go now?” Dean asked, and cast a glance to Sam before he got out of the car. Sam followed suit and soon they were on their way inside the pet shop. For the past few days they had been in Colorado, trying to track down a supposed skin walker. However, the animal shelter and the first two shops they’d been to had been a total bust, so they were hoping lucky number three would indeed be lucky.

“Can I help you?” the friendly looking young woman looked up as Sam and Dean entered the shop, exchanging brief smiles in greeting. She was working behind the main register counter off to the side of the store, clipboard in hand. The store itself wasn’t very busy, so either she was the only one working at the time or someone else was just on break.

“Hi, Rogers and Phillips, we’re with the Department of Animal Control, we’re just looking for a stray that may have come in by accident. We’ve been by the offices and the shelter, just wondering if we could look around, maybe ask a few questions?” Sam asked and smiled again at her for good measure.

“Yeah, sure, knock yourselves out,” she gestured to the store, to which Dean nodded back and vanished behind a few shelves of glass mice cages and hamster wheels. “We don’t get many strays in here though, you…sure you’re looking in the right place?” the woman asked slowly just to be sure.

Sam nodded back in reply. “We just go where they send us, the dog’s been known to have violent tendencies, wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” he explained away smoothly. It wasn’t a total lie, after all.

“Gotcha,” the woman smiled back. “I don’t remember bringing any dogs back in recent days though,” she shrugged, “but like your partner, store’s yours, I guess, let me know if I can help with anything,” she offered and smiled before she jotted down a few more notes onto her clipboard.

“I’ll let you know, thank you,” Sam smiled back, and began following where Dean had gone. They both had silver dollars to test for skin walkers, but honestly it wouldn’t take long with the size of the store, where the hell was Dean?

He turned the corner, expecting to see him by the few dogs in the back, but he wasn’t there. With a frown, he turned down another aisle where he heard _giggling. _That couldn’t be Dean, right? No way in hell.

Well, it was, and the sight in front of him made Sam laugh to himself, half in confusion and half out of what he was seeing. Off to the side there was a small open glass case with grass and a water holder and tiny balls of fluff inside. There was a very clear “Please do not pick us up!” sign on the front of the tank, which apparently Dean was ignoring.

He turned, having seen Sam out of the corner of his eye, and the grin on his face was practically splitting it in half. “Dude,” he said quietly, showing him what was in his hands. He was very carefully, more carefully than Sam thought possible for the knife wielding, gun shooting, monster killing badass, holding an incredibly small baby bunny in his hands.

It was mostly brown with a few white spots and its little nose kept twitching. Even Sam had to admit that it was cute, because come on. “So, you found the skin walker I take it?” he joked and walked up to get a closer view.

“What, this thing? This isn’t a killer, aren’t ya, little fella?” Dean asked quietly, still smiling at the little fuzzy bundle in his hands. He gently stroked it a few times before he reached back and put it back in the tank, where he went on petting a few of the other bunnies.

It was such an odd scene that Sam almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but at least Dean was smiling. “So…no monsters then, I’m guessing?”

Dean shook his head, not even looking back at Sam to do so. He picked up a small piece of carrot that had been left in the tank, and with practiced carefulness, delivered it to the bunny he had been holding. The bunny happily took the offered food, which made Dean’s smile grow even more.

“You know we can’t-“ Sam was about to say, but Dean cut him off.

“I know, I know,” Dean shook off, “but come on, Sam, they’re pretty damn cute, just give me a minute. How often do we get to deal with cute animals that aren’t out to kill something other than a carrot?”

Sam shrugged, seeing his point. He turned around to look at the hamster behind him spinning in its wheel and when he turned back, Dean was holding a piece of carrot out to him. When Sam didn’t immediately take it, Dean gestured again and passed it off. Sam then let out a breathy laugh and stepped closer to the tank, where he positioned the carrot next to one of the other baby bunnies and smiled as it too began eating.

“They are pretty cute,” he agreed, to which Dean nodded.

“Tiny little balls of fluff,” Dean muttered fondly, intent on still watching them.

They did eventually have to leave the pet store to actually find the skin walker they were looking for in the first place, but when they did, Sam was thinking about if they could maybe make a pet work, and what type of pet could work. Now that they had the Bunker, something could feasibly be done…maybe. He’d talk to Dean about it later, as soon as Dean got the happy grin off his face. If Sam had known that simply seeing baby bunnies could make his brother so happy, they would have visited a few random pet stores more often.


	4. Swimming Pools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written for the guest over on ff.n who requested one with the brothers in a hotel/motel pool.

It was hot in Arizona. Really, really hot. Sam had been in Arizona before, the job took them all over, but he’d never had a day in the state quite as hot as the one they’d been put through. On top of that, the case had been a ghost, which meant a salt and burn, so even more heat.

By the time the Winchesters clambered into Baby at the end of the hunt (stifling interior, hot leather seats and all), they were truly cooked and the sun was barely even down. Being in jeans and boots didn’t help anything, but at least the only negative thing that had happened on the hunt was the heat, which had gotten to well over a hundred degrees as the afternoon passed.

“Is my face melting? I feel like my face is melting,” Dean muttered as he turned the key in the ignition and put the air conditioner on full blast. He went to grab the steering wheel to reverse, but jerked his hands back a second later at how hot it was. “Stupid heat.”

“At least we can go into an air conditioned place now, find some motel, take a shower or something,” Sam replied as they finally began pulling away from the house, Dean eventually giving up on trying to avoid the heat.

“That sounds just about perfect,” Dean nodded in approval, already beginning to scope out a place.

They ended up at a slightly nicer almost hotel than they usually stayed at, courtesy, in fact, of the hunt. The couple they had helped had insisted on paying them for getting rid of the ‘pest problem’ that kept banging on their walls, and the brothers hadn’t been able to refuse. And seeing that they had a long drive back to Kansas, they could afford one decent night in a decent place.

Dean still had to park the car himself and there was nobody waiting to take their bags, it wasn’t that fancy, but it was better. Sam signed them in under a false name, provided cash, and started walking to the elevators. Dean appeared a second later with a few mints in his hand, duffel bag in the other.

“Place is nice,” he commented, already sucking on one as the doors dinged open, they stepped inside, and eventually got out again. Their room was on the second floor with a key card and everything, and once inside they dropped their bags and sat on the edge of the beds. “And no obvious mystery stains. You know, we should start charging more often,” Dean joked, smirking to Sam was he looked around the room.

Sam simply rolled his eyes, but he smirked along too. He then looked to his brother, who had paused by the window, peeking out through the curtains.

“What is it?” Sam asked, hoping there wasn’t something wrong with the so far nice establishment.

“Dude, they have a pool,” Dean pointed down to the ground. Sam got up and came to see, and it was indeed a pool. It wasn’t one of those sad, somewhat dirty rectangular ones either, but a nice sized clean looking pool with lounges set up around it.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Sam looked to his brother, who had a light in his eyes, but eventually shook his head with a laugh. “Dean, we don’t exactly carry swimsuits with us everywhere.” He wasn’t even sure he owned one, to be honest.

“So?” his brother asked with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

“And we can’t go swimming in jeans, and I don’t want to hear the other options,” Sam held up a finger to stop Dean’s arguments before ether started, knowing where it would lead them.

“Who said anything about jeans?” Dean asked, not letting Sam’s refusal dampen his mood. He went over to his duffel, and after a minute of rummaging, came back with two pairs of shorts, one of which he presented to Sam proudly.

“You…own shorts?” Sam questioned, his eyes open wide and a bit confused.

Dean shrugged in response. “I looked at the weather beforehand. Figured we may not want to die of heatstroke and could at least wear them in the motel if not on the job so…” he trailed off, shaking the shorts in his hand. “Come on, Sam, when’s the last time we went swimming?”

Sam honestly had to think back, and it was a while back. He couldn’t have been more than five, he and Dean were swimming in a motel pool. John had been off on one of the chairs, keeping watch while also looking through a newspaper for the next case. They had fun jumping and splashing around as kids did, and while they tried to get their dad to join in, he smiled but refused because he didn’t have any shorts.

So Sam and Dean went on playing, and after an hour or so they went back up to the room, and early the next morning they had left.

“Been a while, but that doesn’t mean we should-“

Now it was Dean’s turn to hold up a finger. “Why not? We’ve got a rare night off in decent accommodations and it’s freaking a million degrees outside. You know what, stay here and take a cold shower or whatever,” Dean waved a hand and went into the bathroom to change, his mind made up.

He came out a minute later sporting an undershirt and shorts.

“You’re going barefoot?” Sam asked and raised an eyebrow, to which Dean shrugged and left his other clothes on the bed.

“You know where to find me,” he replied, casting a glance to his brother with a smirk before he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sam sat on the bed for a minute before he decided to turn on the television to pass the time. A cold shower sounded nice, but Dean hadn’t exactly taken a room key with him, and in case the pool didn’t work out, he needed someone to let him back in.

He could just bring down a towel and the room key to Dean though, not get in himself, no harm no foul. But then again, he could get his jeans wet, which would be miserable.

Sam eventually sighed and shook his head. He resorted to changing into the shorts provided but keeping his t-shirt and shoes on before he grabbed a towel and a room key and began to walk down to the pool. By the time he got down there, the sun had set and the pool was practically deserted. He didn’t see any signs for closing hours, so he shrugged and pushed through the gate into the area.

Dean was swimming a few laps when Sam walked in, and he smirked and stopped by the edge of the pool as he came by. “Changed your mind, I see,” he grinned, as if he had won.

Sam shook his head and put the items down on a nearby lounge. “No, I brought you a towel and a key that you left behind, and I didn’t want to get my jeans wet,” he defended.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Dean muttered and shrugged before he began climbing the steps out of the pool.

“You getting out?” Sam asked as Dean made his way over.

“Nah, got some water in my ear. Go check the water, maybe you’ll change your mind then,” Dean tried, reaching over to grab the towel.

Sam rolled his eyes, but did as his brother asked, kneeling down by the side so he could stick a hand in the water. It did feel nice, like a cool respite from the hot air outside. He didn’t get the chance to tell Dean that, however, because before he could get up, his older brother had run and pushed both of them into the pool.

Water surrounded him and Sam pushed himself up from the bottom, spitting out water as he did so. “Dude, what the hell?” he asked, trying to get some of the hair out of his face, but it was seemingly stuck there.

Dean just laughed and floated a few feet away, his face the perfect picture of ‘got you’. “Not like you were gonna get in yourself, figured I’d give you a helping hand,” he explained with a grin.

Oh, and it was a grin Sam wanted to wipe off his face. He bent down in the water to get his boots off so they didn’t get totally ruined, and left them on the side of the pool.

“Helping hand, huh?” Sam asked with a smirk. “Come over here, I’ll show you what a helping hand looks like.” Dean, of course, didn’t oblige, and Sam was resorted to trying to splash him from across the pool, just like they had when they were kids.

The next ten minutes consisted of a combination of splashing and water grappling, which left both of them laughing and sputtering for air. It eventually turned into a few laps and watching the stars come out over the night sky. All in all, it was one of the best motel nights they had in a while.

When the air around them finally began to cool down, they decided to get out, ringing out their clothes as best their could, with Dean giving Sam most of the towel to “dry off his Rapunzel hair”, which earned him a wet towel to the face.

The concierge looked at them a bit strange when they entered the elevator, still fairly dripping wet with soaked boots in Sam’s hands, and made their way back up to the room.

After they had showered and settled for an old western rerun to watch, Dean brought up, “you know, we should take more cases in Florida or California, somewhere by the beach, that’d be nice,” he muttered, almost half asleep as his eyes began to glaze over, not really paying attention to the movie.

And Sam, hair still damp, and face still smiling, couldn’t find it in his heart to disagree.


	5. Surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suggested by my buddy Em, who wanted a story about John missing Dean's birthday for a hunt, so Sam does his best to make up for it in the only way he knows how. 
> 
> Requests are still open! Hope you guys enjoy this birthday story in September ;)

Dean was flipping through the cassette tapes as Sam sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window. Maybe flipping wasn’t the right word. He was more…rifling loudly through the box looking for a tape they hadn’t played in a while. They had driven across multiple states for the past few hunts and had burned through their usual go to tapes. Dad had left two days ago to finish up the hunt in his own car, leaving the almost a year (legally) licensed driver Dean Winchester and his younger brother alone for the weekend, or until John returned. Dean, of course, had been driving for a few years, but no one else needed to know that.

“Dean, can we go?” Sam asked, eventually turning to look at his brother.

Dean made a face, having not found a decent tape to listen to, and dropped the box back in the second row of seats, resorting to what was already in the player. It was still AC/DC, which he would never get tired of, but a new tape with some new songs couldn’t hurt. But with money the way it was, they couldn’t just randomly get a new tape every time they wanted.

“Fine, fine, you got someplace to go? Hot date maybe?” Dean replied, and quirked a smirk and an eyebrow up at Sam as he turned on the Impala and checked to make sure it was clear before he pulled out of the library lot where they had been researching.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he still smiled at his brother’s comments. “With my math book, yeah.”

“Hey, be wary of girls like that, Sammy, I hear they’re full of problems.” Dean’s grin widened, as he was quite proud of his joke, and received a decently powerful jab to the arm from Sam.

He didn’t say anything else, just let out a small laugh before he went back to looking out the window. Ten minutes later, they were pulling into the small motel lot that had an adjacent mini-mart shopping center like thing and a diner that they hadn’t yet been to.

Dean checked the fridge first when they got in, which was of course pretty much empty, and sighed. “I’m gonna grab a shower, then we’ll get something to eat.”

Sam shrugged as he sat down on the bed furthest from the door. “I can grab something, Dean,” he tried, already knowing what his brother would say.

Dean immediately shook his head.

“But I’m almost thirteen, Dean! I can run across the street and get food for five minutes,” he argued back.

“Nope. End of story. You’re gonna sit your butt down and watch some…Western reruns,” Dean said as he flipped the television on and handed Sam the remote, “until I get done, kapeesh?”

“Whatever,” Sam muttered a moment later, and grabbed the remote out of Dean’s hands. He leaned back against the pillows and began flipping channels as Dean stepped into the small bathroom.

As soon as he heard the water running, Sam was up, and as quietly as he could, made his way to the kitchenette where they had a pad of paper out. _Back in 15 _he wrote hastily on it before he grabbed a small wad of money out of his duffel and, with practiced carefulness and silence, left the motel with Dean still in the shower.

It was still afternoon when Sam crossed the small street towards the little shopping mart, and it wouldn’t take him long to get the items he needed, one of which he knew what to look for. Thankful for the off hours, he went into the diner first, where the waitress greeted him with a pleasant smile.

“Can I get ya a table?” she offered, to which Sam shook his head.

“You have any pie?” he asked, not seeing any of the characteristic domes on any of the counters. The waitress smiled again and nodded.

“‘course we do, and they’re pretty good if I do say so myself. We’ve got,” she paused for a second, “pecan, apple, cherry, and rhubarb,” she finished.

Out of those options, Sam quickly went with “a slice of cherry and apple, please, to go,” to which the waitress nodded. She went and packaged the slices up in a box and a bag with forks and napkins inside before she came back out.

“Special occasion?” she asked, still smiling as she totaled the pies up.

Sam shrugged in response. “Kinda. That, and my brother really likes pie.”

“Well, he’s got good taste then,” she nodded. She read off the total, money exchanged hands, and a minute later Sam was walking out of the diner with a bag in one hand. He checked his watch, and seeing as he still had nine minutes left, he made a quick stop into the shopping area.

It was bigger than some others they had stopped by, with a grocery mart, a small donation center, and a discount music shop in the back. Sam looped around and headed into the music store, hoping they had what he was looking for.

The music store had a few people in it thumbing through records, which took up the middle section of the room on big racks. Sam went towards the back of the store where the labelled bargain bins were, a grin spreading across his face as he saw one bin filled with records and the other with cassette tapes. He went over to the second bin and began flipping through titles, some with cases, and some with just the tapes themselves. It took him a few minutes of looking to find one that was actually decent, and when he did, he went with it.

He brought it up to the front, where a less smiley cashier traded him a dollar for the cassette, and Sam put it in the pie bag and continued on his way. He only wished he had some wrapping paper…but looking back at his watch and the four minutes that remained, he knew he didn’t have time. He was pushing it as it was, Dean wasn’t known for taking long showers.

Sam hurried across the road and back to the motel. He got the key into the door and quickly closed it, hoping that Dean wasn’t out of the shower yet. But as he turned around, Sam found out that Dean was in fact out of the shower, and he was looking at Sam crossly.

“Sam,” he said in a warning tone. “Look, I get being cooped up sucks, but ten minutes is all I’m asking for, man.” What could have passed off as anger in Dean’s voice Sam actually knew to be worry, and as he assured himself that Sam was in fact alright, the ‘anger’ dropped off from his voice.

“Sorry,” Sam apologized weakly.

“Don’t go running off by yourself in a town you don’t know, Sam, you know better, almost thirteen year old or not,” Dean added. Sam still had a few months to go until he hit the magical teenage number, and he was practically counting down the days. When Sam didn’t reply, Dean eventually sighed in defeat. “What was so important that you just _had _to go get asa-freaking-p?”

Sam finally smiled, hand closing tighter around the bag in his grasp. “You gotta sit down and close your eyes.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow up in confusion, but, at seeing his excited little brother, decided to indulge whatever ‘surprise’ Sam had in mind. “I swear, Sam, if it’s a lizard or something…” his threat trailed off as he sat down on the bed and did as he was told.

“No,” Sam said with a laugh. He made sure Dean’s eyes were closed before he carefully placed the bag in Dean’s hands, taking out the cassette tape to hide behind his back first. If he didn’t have wrapping paper, one present at a time would have to do. “‘kay, you can open ‘em now,” he directed.

Dean did, and used one hand to push back the plastic to reveal the see-through pie container inside. Immediately, a smile spread across his face as he looked back up at Sam. “This is hardly dinner, but I won’t complain,” he nodded as he got out the container, forks, and napkins to place on the bed. “Thanks, Sammy,” he added, honestly appreciative. The way Sam’s face lit up was a gift in itself.

“Close your eyes again,” Sam directed, smiling even more now than before. This time, Dean did as was told immediately, and Sam placed the cassette tape into Dean’s hands. It was just a simple black tape with wording on it, as the case had probably been lost somewhere along the way, leaving just the tape. He had rifled through their own box as much as his dad and older brother had, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen this one yet and it was a bit more recent…

Dean opened his eyes without an invitation and grinned, flipping the cassette tape over so he could read what was on it. “The Razors Edge, AC/DC,” Dean read off, obviously happy with Sam’s selection. His happiness soon turned into muted confusion, and he looked up at Sam. “This is great, Sam, but just on a whim? Where’d you get the money?”

Sam shrugged. “Uncle Bobby gave me some in case of emergencies,” he stated simply.

“Well, what was the emergency?” Dean asked, again, no less appreciative, just trying to figure things out.

“Presents. Nobody else was gonna get you any, and you can’t get ‘em for yourself,” Sam said matter’o’factly. “Happy birthday, Dean!”

And there was the emergency, one that Dean had completely forgotten about in the moment. All the driving around, it was easy to get the days confused…but apparently not for Sam. His little brother had remembered amid everything, and had gone out of his way to make it special in whatever little way he could.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean echoed, a content look on his face, more so than he had been in a long time. “This is great. New tunes and pie, birthdays don’t get better than that.” He reached up to ruffle Sam’s already long hair, to which the younger boy laughed, both proud of himself and happy that Dean liked everything.

“Okay, but two pieces? You know you’re gonna have to help me out a little bit here,” Dean said, tilting his head a bit as he popped the plastic container open and made room on the bed. A moment later, Sam sat down beside him.

“Fine, but just a little bit, it’s your birthday pie,” he replied and took the fork that Dean held out to him.

On January 24, 1996, Dean Winchester had one of the best birthdays of his life. It didn’t entail a pile of gifts or a house full of friends or a grand cake or a movie outing, but it did have some meaningful music, a brother by his side, a pie in his lap, and some Western reruns. And to him, it was better than any overblown extravaganza could ever be.


	6. A Dinosaur-Sized Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt comes from Paleogirl47 over on ff.n who requested Sam and Dean seeing Jurassic Park in the theater in 1993 and it's the first time they see a movie without their father. It was fun to write, especially since I'll rewatch this movie any time it's on TV. Hopefully you guys enjoy!
> 
> Requests are still open!

They had seen the ads all over the crappy televisions in the motels where they spent the night when they weren’t in the car. Every time one came on, Sam would sit on the edge of the bed and watch it with wide eyes.

There was an epic theme and sweeping camera shots and above all else, _dinosaurs _before the grand title _Jurassic Park_ popped up on screen. All in all, it was a pretty epic trailer.

“You know dinosaurs aren’t real, right?” Dean asked one night. It wasn’t said meanly, it was said jokingly because, hey, in the trailer at least the dinosaurs looked pretty freaking real.

“I know, Dean,” Sam replied, already practicing the annoyed face at his brother that he would continue all the way into adulthood. “But they were real. They find fossils and stuff, giant bones all over the world,” he explained, as if Dean didn’t already know. But Dean let him talk, the younger boy’s face lighting up with happiness and pride as he talked about the giant beasts that once roamed the earth. It was a perfect time for a dinosaur phase…

A few weeks went by and eventually, the ads stopped showing, and Sam’s dinosaur talk dropped off. However, whenever they would pass some discount theater in the middle of nowhere, the dinosaur epic would still be showing.

They’d been to a movie theater before, a few times, but it was a special occurrence that they had only been to with their dad. But he never said they couldn’t go alone…

Which was why a month after the movie premiered and John was out on a hunt and wouldn’t be back for a few days, Dean got a plan into action. The theater was only half a mile from the motel, the weather was decent, and dad had left them some extra money that time, courtesy of a game of pool he had ‘won’ the week before.

“Heya, Sammy, how about we head down to the diner? I’m starving,” Dean brought up. The smirk on his face could be confused with one of the thought of getting food, not seeing a movie.

Sam looked up from where he was reading a book for homework and pushed his hair out of his face. “Now, Dean? I still have two chapters to go,” he said with a bit of a frown.

Dean simply shrugged back. “It’ll still be light outside when we get back. Besides, what sort of elementary school assigns homework over the weekend?”

“It’s an extra book Miss Hadley gave me because I like reading,” Sam protested, but Dean could see the kid’s internal want to get out of the motel room they’d been stuck in for the past few days.

“Well then, you can finish it when we get back, alright?”

Sam eventually caved and with a small eye roll, shut the book and got his shoes on. It didn’t take long for them to be out the door and on their way into the small town center. There was a diner down the street, but the movie theater came up first. Dean had checked that the movie was still playing when they got into town so they wouldn’t be disappointed.

And sure enough, the big words _Jurassic Park _were scrawled in black letters along a white background at the top of the theater. Sam’s eyes went up for a millisecond before they went back to the diner only a block away.

Dean held up a hand to stop Sam, which he bumped into. “How about a movie first?” he asked with a smirk.

Sam’s face was one of confusion at what Dean was getting at, but also maybe even a little bit of hope. “Thought you said we were going to eat?”

“We are eating. Popcorn counts, right?” Dean replied and jerked his head towards the doors leading into the theater.

“Seriously?” Sam asked just to check that Dean wasn’t pulling his leg about this.

“Seriously. One afternoon off couldn’t hurt anything. Besides, when’s the next time a dinosaur movie will come out?”

The grin on Sam’s face became wide as he practically pulled Dean behind him and into the theater. They got two tickets and a medium popcorn and a soda to share before they found their way to the theater.

Despite it being a small town, some of the seats in the theater were already taken, and Sam kicked his feet under his seat as he waited for the movie to start. They passed popcorn back and forth until the lights dimmed and Sam grinned again.

“It’s starting!” he announced excitedly in the smallest voice he could muster. Dean chuckled to himself, glad his plan had worked out. They both needed an afternoon off, and it was definitely better than flipping through soap opera reruns on the motel television.

They both got settled in as it started, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the dinosaurs. Of course, they were cool when they eventually popped up, but nothing compared to the swell of music at the huge expanse of land and dinosaurs that lay on screen.

“Woah,” Sam whispered, staring at the screen, his eyes filled with wonder. Dean was smiling to himself all the while because yeah, the dinosaurs looked freaking _awesome, _and seeing them on a giant screen was much better than watching a trailer on a static filled little motel television.

As soon as the T-Rex got loose, however, Sam drew his legs up as he still stared wide eyed at the screen. He wasn’t scared exactly, Dean knew that look well enough, but he was definitely tense while they waited to find out what would happen. At least there was so shortage of suspenseful action. And then the massive dinosaur was chasing after the little Jeep. But of course that ended alright…until the scene in the dark trying to get the power back (at least Dennis got what he deserved, so Dean thought)…and the scene with the electric fence…and then the raptors in the kitchen…and basically the whole final act.

But when the lights came back on, the Winchester brothers sat for a moment, part in awe of what they had just witnessed.

“Think there’ll be another one?” Sam brought up as people started filing out. It was evident from his excited tone that he hoped it would be the case.

Dean smirked and looked back up to the screen. “Could be. I mean, they included that ending bit for a reason.” He honestly wouldn’t mind seeing another one, not if it was as interesting as this one anyways. And Sam certainly seemed pleased with Dean’s thought process too.

“What was your favorite part? I liked when the car started falling down the tree and it screeched. Oh! And the other part where the small dinosaurs puffed out and squirted Dennis, that was good.”

Sam continued to ramble on part after part with Dean interjecting a few of his favorite lines and scenes as well. They continued to talk well up until they got to the motel, where Dean decided that if there ever were another movie to come out, they’d definitely be seeing it.


	7. Bowling the Night Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any chance we'll see the Winchesters bowl before the final season ends? No? Well then, there's this. This chapter is an outsider POV, the next one will be from the Winchesters with a bit more angst and background. Hope you all enjoy!

James was tired. He’d had a lot of late nights recently, it was to be expected with his schedule, but this was getting ridiculous. For the third time that week, he was stuck working the graveyard shift at the bowling alley. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand, low guy on the totem pole new hire got the worst shifts, but he was also a college student, and he needed his sleep. But he also needed the extra cash to help pay for his student loans, which were already stacking up and he wasn’t even done with his junior year yet.

Whatever, he would manage. He ran a hand down his face and surveyed the bowling alley. There was an older gentleman, a regular even at these times of night, on an end lane, but that was it. His pin strikes were the only noises in the whole building aside from the slight hum of the air conditioner. Nights in May in Arizona weren’t known for being cool, even past midnight.

James checked the clock again. He still had almost two hours until the alley closed, for whatever reason. He knew it was because the owner figured people would stumble in from the nearby bar after drinking, but it honestly didn’t happen often. Staying open until two in the morning, even with a discounted price, just wasn’t worth it. Of course, he didn’t bring up his opinion, as he still needed the job. With a sigh, he looked back down at his textbook and tried to force his bleary, sleep deprived mind to make sense of the statistics word problems in front of him.

“Hey, kid,” a gruff voice said. How long had he been staring at the book? Or dozing off, apparently, because the time was now closer to twelve thirty and the older gentleman was gone, having left his shoes on the counter with a few extra bucks under them.

James looked up, finding not one but two men, giant men at that, standing by the counter.

“Sorry,” he apologized, and closed the book. Why they wanted to bowl this late, he had no idea, but they were customers, so no questions asked.

“No problem. Though you may want a quieter place to study,” the taller one brought up with a bit of an understanding smile.

“You’re telling me,” James replied, and nodded in agreement. “You guys here to bowl?”

The shorter, though still tall, man nodded. “That’s what the sign says, right? Throw some balls, hit some pins, screw sleep,” he looked back to the other man, who looked about done with the comments.

“One game or two?” James asked.

“One-“

“Two-“ the shorter quickly corrected.

“Dean, come on, it’s late.”

“Awh what, Sammy, you got a bed time?” the short one, Dean, said, and cast a glance over his shoulder. “First is a warm up before I kick your ass with my record score.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sammy replied with a bit of an eye roll, but a smile all the same.

Just by their conversation, James could guess they were close friends, maybe brothers. “Shoe size?”

“You got anything that fits a sasquatch?” Dean asked, amused, which Sammy and James both weren’t. Upon seeing this, Dean made a face and sighed. “Eleven and a…twelve then.” There was a bit of something in his tone that suggested maybe he was trying too hard, but again, paying customer, so James didn’t ask.

James grabbed the appropriate shoes (he never would be able to get the smell of the aerosol spray out of his nose) and punched in the two games and shoe rentals onto the computer. “Ten bucks even,” he read off the amount.

“See? Discounted post midnight bowling is worth it,” Dean said and nudged Sammy before he handed off the bill. Apparently, Dean was trying to get his friend, brother, whatever, on board with his idea.

“We’ll see,” Sammy shrugged. He took the shoes and waited for Dean to get the receipt.

“You’re on lane three, have fun,” James said, picking a random lane a few over from the desk but still within eyesight and earshot, and handed the tall man the little slip of paper.

Dean rapped his knuckles on the desk and smirked back. “Oh, hey, Sammy, you need bumpers?” Sammy rolled his eyes and went down to lane three, Dean taking a few longer steps to keep up with him.

James watched for a few seconds until they got settled before he picked his book back up again. They had tons of oddballs come in after midnight. He really just wanted to study and sleep, but if neither of those could happen, maybe at the very least it would be entertaining.

For most of the first game, it did indeed appear to be a practice round. Aside from a few muttered curses, excuses, or seldom shouts of triumph, the men were quiet as they threw their balls down the lane. By one in the morning, they had apparently finished their first game and were on to the second. And yeah, James knew this because he found that watching them instead of his textbook was both more entertaining and was keeping him awake.

Dean had been throwing first, following a game of rock paper scissors, and that continued. The first few throws on both their parts went by fairly normally, seven, eight pins with an occasional spare. However, when Dean got his first strike on the fourth throw, he threw his hands up in victory.

“Yahtzee! It’s in the hole!” he shouted, apparently not caring who heard him. The grin that spread on his face was matched with an eye roll and a smirk from Sam, who got up after Dean clapped him on the back. “Match that,” he challenged.

“You sure you want me to, Dean? I’m up by four,” Sam pointed out. He was right. In both games, Sam had been ahead, but not by much. While he got a spare on the next throw and was still ahead, James expected it to change.

“It was a lucky extra point.”

“It was a split and one pin hit the other one, that’s calculated-“

“Lucky,” Dean said with a shake of his head and readied his ball to throw again. Nine, and missed the last pin on the second throw. “Stupidfrigginball,” he muttered as he went to sit back down.

“Oh what, not lucky?” Sam shot back and got up, obviously pleased with the turn of events.

They were definitely brothers. Anyone that couldn’t see that would have been blind. James and his older brother had the same rapport when they were younger, before his older brother escaped off to college. He still called…sometimes, but it wasn’t the same.

James turned back after Sam threw, knocking down seven pins. Dean let out a low whistle at that. “Gotta do better than that, Sammy.”

Sammy, seeming to take it as a personal challenge, threw the ball a bit harder. Instead of knocking the pins over, the ball careened into the gutter and Sam grasped at one his sides as if the action had hurt him.

James leaned up against the desk, trying to see if anything was seriously wrong, but Dean beat him to it. He was over by his brother’s side in an instant, checking him over. The words were too quiet to hear, but eventually Sam sat back down and Dean took the ball, casting him just one more glance before he took his next shot.

For the next four rounds, they were either tied or up a point or two. At the end of the ninth, Dean was up by two and apparently very pleased with it, though the game had been going a bit quicker and more serious since whatever had happened with Sam.

He hit another nine and lined up the last one, taking a few extra seconds before he threw…and missed. Dean muttered a curse but shrugged it off, since he was up by eleven and Sam would need a spare or a strike to win.

Man, James really needed a life outside the alley.

“It’s the final countdown, Sam, hope you’ve got your pins in a row.”

“Damn right I do,” Sam countered. He had been taking more time with his swings, and this one was no different. He threw, hitting eight, and threw again for a spare.

The look on Dean’s face, openmouthed ‘did that really happen?’ made James laugh to himself. Sam threw his last ball and knocked over a few more, it didn’t matter how many, and came out on top. When he made his triumphant return to the little table, Dean granted him a high five and asked if he was a cheater, to which Sam rolled his eyes again and laughed, though the look on his face afterwards said it pained him.

They returned to the counter a few minutes later, in which James had been intently studying his book. They probably hadn’t noticed he’d been watching, they’d been too tied up in their game. When they set down their shoes, he looked up and smiled a bit at them.

“Have a nice night,” he said, as it was the customary send-off, even past one in the morning.

“Yeah, yeah, a car ride with this gloater,” Dean jerked a finger towards Sam, “nothing nice about that.” He was obviously joking, and Sam shook his head at that, but didn’t say much. If it was possible, they both looked a bit…lighter and happier than when they came in, which was what James supposed to be the purpose of the alley in the first place. They then turned around from the counter, speaking quietly to themselves, opened the doors, and then they were gone.

There was no way in hell James was getting any more studying done after that. He may have been bone tired, but at least there was a story to tell the guys when he came back to work the next day. The tale of the two giant men versus the bowling pins. Yeah, James definitely needed some sleep.

Half an hour later, the lights in the bowling alley shut off, the door was locked, and James headed home, never knowing what happened to the brothers after that.


	8. Bowling Part 2 (Winchester POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to part 2! A bit more angst in this one, but also a bunch of brother stuff. Hope you guys enjoy! Prompts are still welcome!

The Impala was two hours away from the red and blue lights at the crime scene before she was finally pulled over to a stop in the fairly vacant parking lot of a bar, which was in the first town for a while and would be the only one for a while longer. Both brothers were silent as Dean shut off the ignition and they sat in the car for a few moments.

“Drink then find a motel?” Dean asked.

Sam didn’t complain about the late hour, or how his side was probably aching, or the reason why a beer sounded better than sleep. He only nodded and got out of the car, with Dean following suit. Dean, who had tried to get Sam to talk about it, hadn’t had much luck, and was left trying to somewhat lighten his brother’s spirits in any way he could. If that meant not asking if Sam was okay every minute, lowering the music, and cracking corny jokes to try to get him to smile, then Dean would do it. Maybe he was doing it for himself too, as a distraction, a mission that he would actually be able to accomplish.

In short, the previous hunt had not gone well. Many of them usually didn’t go smoothly, but on the scale of good to bad, it had been a mess, and Dean wasn’t quite sure where it fell. It had started with an angry witch, which threw Sam against a doorframe before Dean could distract it, and ended with an innocent young woman dead because they hadn’t been able to find the hex bag and burn it in time. Dean had eventually been able to get a shot off at the witch, and ended her small reign of terror, but it didn’t change the outcome of the night.

It was always hard when they weren’t able to save a person in trouble, but they had promised to protect her, and ultimately, they hadn’t been able to keep their promise, all because of some stupid tiny bag with objects in it. It sucked. They had called the authorities, because that was all they could do, cleaned up what they could, and left. Sam had been fairly quiet ever since.

Inside the bar, Dean got a few beers and slid into a booth across from Sam, passing him a bottle. “Your side holding up?” he asked and took a drink.

Sam shrugged noncommittally. “Just a bruise, it’ll be fine,” he replied simply.

“Right,” Dean nodded. They lapsed back into silence, listening to the clink of glasses and seldom shots from the pool table in the corner. It was past twelve before Dean spoke again, because Sam had been staring at his bottle for the past few minutes. “We did all we could, Sam, stuff like this happens, more people would’ve died if we hadn’t jumped in when we did.”

His younger brother sighed, sliding the glass back and forth between his hands a bit. “Doesn’t make it any easier though.”

“Nope,” Dean said in agreement. There was no sense in trying to belittle the facts. Eventually they’d move on, but for the next few days it would definitely hang over them. “You want another?” Dean asked when they had both finished their drinks, and when Sam shook his head, they got up to leave. Sam was more aware again, more out of his own head, but he was still thinking, even as they made their way out to the car. “So, drive around a bit, see if we can find a decent motel and-“

“And what?” Sam asked, as Dean had cut off mid-sentence. Dean was standing by the Impala, looking at a neon sign for a bowling alley across the parking lot. The alley was open until two in the freaking morning and had discounted prices after midnight, which it was. “Dean, you’re not…”

“Why not?” Dean asked with a bit of a smile. “Come on, we could use a bit of a mental break, when was the last time we went bowling?”

Sam honestly couldn’t remember. “Never…?” he ventured.

“So we’re on even ground, maybe? Whatever. We should at least check it out, discounted price too, no harm in it.” The lightness of Dean’s suggestion finally made Sam give in, and Dean almost happily led them over to the establishment.

It was completely empty when they got inside, and the only sign that it was open was a half asleep kid at the desk. Dean looked to Sam and shrugged a bit before he made his way over and tapped a bit on the desk. “Hey, kid,” he said, and waited for him to fully register that yes, there were customers past midnight.

The kid, he was a young man really, but whatever, looked up, seemingly startled, and apologized for his sleeping. Sam, of course, having had experience with similar situations, smiled a bit at him. However, when Dean announced that they’d be doing two games, Sam paused. “Dean, come on, it’s late,” he tried, but Dean was adamant, so Sam let it slide. Maybe in his mind, the more time they could spend away from the real world outside, the better. Maybe they could use a bit of a break. Dean, thankfully, at least got games and shoes squared away before he nudged Sam, who still wasn’t totally on board but was going along with it.

“Oh, hey, Sammy, you need bumpers?” Dean asked next. Sam just rolled his eyes, but smiled a bit again at the familiar jesting back and forth. He had heard the kid mention lane three, so he went over and waited for Dean to join him.

“Just practice, right?” Sam said, just wanting to make sure.

“Of course, I can’t be destroying you and getting you all annoyed before the real game,” Dean replied. He may have been trying a bit too hard, but it was fine. It helped. He then held up his hands, one with a fist, one flat. “Come on, winner picks first or second to throw.”

Sam sighed, but followed in the gesture, as it was their customary way of deciding things. Three hits later, and Dean threw scissors and Sam rock. “Damnit,” Dean muttered and put his hands down.

“Second,” Sam made his decision, and gestured for Dean to get up to toss the ball. After trying out a few different weights, Dean settled on a thirteen pound and got up. He tested his shoes on the slippery surface, which looked great with jeans and their typical garb, but it wasn’t like anyone was around to witness it.

It was clear that the first game was a practice round. There were more than a few gutter balls as they got used to throwing and how to not curl it all that much. Dean got a spare and let out a louder than necessary ‘yes!’ at his accomplishment. Sam had to reach up to give him a high five, simply because of how happy it made him, and then tried to take it back when Dean messed up the next throw, muttering that his fingers got stuck in the stupid holes.

Sam was the first to get a spare in the second game, which actually counted, and Dean refused to give him a high five because it wasn’t professional.

“Not professional? Just because it’s game two?” Sam checked as he sat down, swapping spots with Dean.

“Hell yeah. This is an actual game that counts for bragging rights, no high fives,” Dean replied, seemingly very set with his serious decision. On his fourth throw, which was a bit harder and careened down the very center of the lane, he managed to get a strike.

“Yahtzee! It’s in the hole!” he shouted, and raised his hands up in the air in victory. He turned back to Sam, a giant grin on his face. “Match that,” Dean added when he practically sauntered back.

But Sam wasn’t necessarily worried. “You sure you want me to, Dean? I’m up by four,” he pointed out. Sure, a strike would be harder to beat given the double points, but Sam thought he could manage. He did his best to try and match Dean’s strike so he could rub it in, but only managed to get a spare. Still, he turned around, obviously proud of himself, which Dean blew off.

“It was a lucky extra point.”

“It was a split and one pin hit the other one, that’s calculated-“ Sam tried as he came back to the little table.

“Lucky,” Dean said with a shake of his head after he got up and readied his ball to throw again. He threw it pretty much the same as he had done the previous time, but only knocked down nine. The last one teetered mockingly, but didn’t fall, and Dean grumbled angrily at it. The next throw curved and didn’t knock down the mocking pin. “Stupidfrigginball,” he muttered as he went to sit back down.

“Oh, what, not lucky?” Sam jested back at him, enjoying Dean’s bit of annoyance as things turned out of his favor. He lined up his next shot, determined to show his brother up while he had the chance, but the ball slipped ever so slightly and he missed three pins.

“Gotta do better than that, Sammy,” Dean helpfully reminded from his spot in the peanut gallery.

Sam could do better than that, for sure. The pins were all together, he just had to throw it hard enough to hit all of them at once. He built up a bit of power, but as soon as he was about to let the ball go, his ribs painfully protested and his hand jerked. It was a quick, white hot pain, but it left him breathless as he grasped at the side that had connected with the doorframe earlier in the night. It had been a fairly mellow pain until then, nothing to really be worried about.

Of course, Dean was out of his seat and by Sam’s side in about half a second, any look of joking or laughter completely vanished from his face. “Sammy? You okay?” he asked quickly, and checked him over, as if the ball had attacked him or something.

“Yeah, just, just my side. Tweaked it the wrong way, threw too hard,” Sam explained, still a bit breathless, but the pain was subsiding.

“Maybe it would be better if we stopped then? Can’t have you hurting it more, we’ve got a long drive back tomorrow-“ Dean started, but Sam cut him off with a slight wave of his hand.

“No, no, it’s fine, you’re right,” Sam said, which had Dean looking at him a bit confused, “we needed a break, we can finish up.”

Dean was silent for a few moments. “And you’re sure it’s not cracked?” he asked, even though he had done a slight ‘exam’ when they had gotten back to the car and determined himself that no, it wasn’t cracked or broken.

Sam shook his head. “No, probably just really, really badly bruised.” He knew better than to lie about it, especially when Dean was watching him like a hawk.

“I can see if they’ve got some ice here,” Dean said, about to set off on a mission right that second before Sam grasped his brother’s shoulder to get him to stop.

“Dean, it’s fine, I’ll keep it in check.”

Dean thought it over for a few moments before he sighed and nodded, not happy about not being able to help his brother right freaking now. But if Sam said he was honestly good, Dean wouldn’t push, not tonight. “We’ll get you some ice when we find a motel,” Dean promised.

“Yeah, sounds good,” the younger brother nodded back. He dropped his hand from his side, where the pain had faded back to about where it had been before. It was more noticeable, but not so bad as to be a real problem. “You’re up,” he reminded, and gestured to the score board before he went and sat down.

Dean stayed up and grabbed his ball, and looked back to Sam, just to make sure he had seated himself alright, before he got up and threw again. They continued like that for a few more rounds, but Dean was even more conscious of Sam’s injury. He had, of course, known Sam had been hurting before, a throw into a doorframe never felt good, but the admission of it made it more real and put a quickness to Dean’s throws that hadn’t been there before.

In the last round, he was pretty sure he had the game in the bag. Nine pins, fine, a spare should happen…and it didn’t. “Freaking spin on the ball,” he muttered and shook his head, but went to sit down next to Sam. Still, he was up by more than ten, and that was what mattered.

“It’s the final countdown, Sam, hope you’ve got your pins in a row,” Dean teased.

Sam smiled back a bit at him. His ribs were bugging him, as he had been throwing slower, but it wasn’t awful. If there had been any sign of a tight pinch of pain in Sam’s face, Dean would have called the game off. “Damn right I do,” Sam countered.

“Sure you do,” Dean mocked back, certainly not expecting the spare Sam came up with next. “Seriously?” he breathed, a bit openmouthed as Sam got literally only one of two things he could have in order to win. The game was rigged, totally, no way Sammy beat him like that. Sam cast him a victory glance before he threw again and the total counter went a few points above Dean’s own.

Still, he gave Sam a high five when he made his way back to the table, despite his earlier rule. “Cheater. You sure you’re not feigning an injury to get my sympathies to let you win?” he asked, obviously joking, but it elicited a laugh from Sam.

“You just don’t want to admit that I beat you, even with a handicap,” Sam replied, wincing slightly as he sat down and laughed again before he shook his head. They were quiet as they took off their shoes and replaced them with their familiar, much sturdier boots, and returned them to the counter.

The kid at the counter was way too into his book, but neither of them minded that they’d had a spectator on a slow night. “Have a nice night,” he said tiredly as he took the shoes and smiled at the pair.

“Yeah, yeah, a car ride with this gloater,” Dean jerked a finger towards Sam, who rolled his eyes and shook his head, “nothing nice about that.” He smiled at the kid one more time before he and Sam turned and started walking out of the alley.

“You think he had a bet going with himself about who would win?” Dean asked quietly as he opened the door and Sam slipped out into the parking lot.

“Probably. Not like he had much else to do, hopefully it was entertaining.”

“A bit stalker-y.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Hey, just saying,” Dean raised his hands before he opened the car door, though he was laughing to himself. Sam took an extra few moments to lower himself down, but soon enough they were closed into the quiet confines of the Impala once again. “You good?” Dean checked once again.

Sam took a second before he nodded ever so slowly. “Better,” he said simply. He wasn’t talking about his ribs, but Dean got it.

“We’ll find a motel, get you some ice, catch some z’s, and head out in the morning. Who knew bowling could be so tiring?” Dean carefully pulled the Impala out of the completely vacant lot and began searching for motels the second they were on the main road.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam nodded in agreement. “We should see if there’s a bowling alley near the bunker,” he started.

“You want to join a group?”

“No, in case you wanted to get some practice in before the inevitable rematch.”

“Oh, and a rematch there will be. I just let you win, Sammy, out of pure pity.”

“Let me win? Sure, all those mutterings and missed shots by an inch were on purpose.”

“Of course! Had to make it look real,” Dean defended, not backing down on his joking stance.

They continued like that until they reached the motel, where, after they got a room and thoroughly washed their hands, Dean found Sam some ice and they went down for the night.

Their little nightly escapade hadn’t fixed what had happened, nothing ever could or would, but it helped. At the end of the day, sometimes the job sucked and they needed more stitches than ice packs, but it wasn’t all bad all the time. Sometimes it just took a bit of post-hunt bonding to make it more apparent.


	9. Ghostbusters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partially inspired by a tumblr post I saw but I can't seem to find. John's doing his best, Dean stays up too late to watch a movie, and they have a really, really serious conversation about busting ghosts ;)

Dean saw _Ghostbusters _for the first time when he was seven years old. He was watching cartoons late at night, since sometimes he had trouble sleeping when John was out, when the station mentioned a special showing of the movie. Dean, knowing what his father did for ‘work’, recognized the word ‘ghost’ and figured that maybe it would be a movie about his dad.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, and even though the movie was probably a little old for him and he only really saw about half of it, he enjoyed it.

When John got back the next day, the first question out of Dean’s mouth was “did you fight a ghost, dad?” He made sure to ask it when Sammy was taking his nap, of course, so he couldn’t overhear.

John had a conversation with Dean a few months prior that Sam wasn’t supposed to know about his work, not until he was bigger and older, so he didn’t get scared. Dean, his protective streak already thick as he was tall, had agreed.

The older man looked up from his journal to his son, sitting across from him with a cheese sandwich in both hands, feet swinging from the chair. “No, it wasn’t a ghost,” he answered simply and went back to writing.

“Do ya fight ghosts ever?”

“Sometimes.” John paused in his writing to look back up. “Why do you ask?” His oldest was smart as a whip, even at seven years old, and he’d probably put the rest of the first graders to shame if John could get him enrolled in a school in time in the new district.

“Sooooo,” Dean dragged out the word, “does that make you a ghostbuster?” He said it with such an innocent, inquisitive look on his face that it took John a moment to catch up and wonder how the hell Dean knew what a ghostbuster was.

“Were you up late watching movies when you should’ve been sleeping?” John’s serious tone counteracted Dean’s and his eyes immediately dropped down to his plate. Smart and obedient, but still on the side of innocent rule breaking.

“Sammy was asleep and I heard something outside and couldn’t sleep and I had it on real quiet, I promise.” John was sure of that, at least, but what he was more worried about was his oldest son developing nightmares. He did his best to keep most of the job away from the kid, at least for now, and definitely didn’t need a movie of all things to start undoing it.

Though, he had left them alone in a motel with a television and no way to lock channels, so the moment of bad parenting was probably on him. He eventually sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Didn’t scare you, did it?”

Dean immediately shook his head. “No…there was a giant marshmallow in it, he’s not scary. He’s not real, right?” The light was back in his eyes at the idea of evading punishment or disappointment and instead just talking about the movie.

Leave it to Dean to forget about the green fat ghost or the living gargoyles and instead go for the marshmallow man. Maybe he’d missed some of the movie, John could only hope. “No, Dean, he’s not real,” John assured with a slight smile.

Dean took a bite of his sandwich and the conversation halted for a second. Just when John thought he could finish the entry, his oldest piped up again. “So are you one?”

“One what?”

“A ghostbuster!”

If John had a camera, he would’ve taken a picture of the kid’s face, it was perfect. Grinning, curious, just a bit devious, everything that made up a young child. And for a moment, the images of bloody werewolf gashes on earlier victims faded from his mind and he smiled at his son. “I guess I am, then.”

They’d promised to keep it a secret, of course, but for the next few days Dean looked at John like he was a next-level hero, and the hunter didn’t see anything wrong with that.

It became their little inside joke, if Dean even understood what those were. Sam was too young to understand the little references back and forth, but Dean enjoyed them immensely. John, too, found himself not minding them.

“Now, who do you call if something happens?”

Dean knew completely well that it was John first, Bobby second, but his first answer from then on was always an enthusiastic “Ghostbusters!”

John would catch him humming the theme song wherever they went, and occasionally Sam would try to join in with the humming, since he didn’t know the words.

More than once they’d be in the car in the middle of a long drive, nothing but night sky and open pavement stretched out in front of them. Sam would be curled up next to Dean, who had his arm wrapped around his little brother.

John would glance at them every so often in the rearview mirror and find Dean’s eyes looking back at him.

“Hey, dad?” would eventually break the silence.

“Hm?”

“Are you afraid of ghosts?” Dean’s face would already be morphing into a smile before he asked the question.

And John, too, would smile, the stress and tiredness of the job washing off him just for a moment. He’d catch Dean’s glance in the mirror and reply, possibly in a bit of a stage voice, “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts.”


	10. Lasertag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little over three months left before Dean's deal comes due, Sam can't say no when their latest case at an arcade presents an opportunity for some laser tag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Special note for this: I decided from now on to post the chapters as individual stories in the Life in Color series to hopefully make them easier to find and differentiate. I may go back and post some of these chapters as individual stories later on, but for right now they'll all stay in this big lump.  
I hope you guys have been enjoying! I have a few more chapters to mirror over still, and requests for happy stories are still very much welcome, especially right now.

“This has got to be one of the weirdest things we’ve ever burned.”

“Seriously? What, the dead bodies and skeletons and remains aren’t enough for you?”

“No, yes, that’s weird, but a different type. This,” Dean waved his hand towards the aforementioned ‘weirdest thing’, “is like a normal weird, which makes it weird. It’s not a hex bag or a skeleton or a building, it’s a freaking foosball table.”

Sam looked between the burning pieces of wood and his brother before he smirked, seeing what Dean was getting at. “No super weird smell, that’s an upside.”

“Amen to that. Ghosts should attach themselves to normal objects more often,” Dean nodded in agreement.

They were standing in the parking lot behind an arcade. A few streetlights were on, but other than that and the fire burning and winding down at their feet, there was no other light. The owner of the shop was still inside and trying to come to terms with the fact that ghosts were real and one had been haunting his place of business, making the electronic arcade games fritz and electrocute several people.

The ghost in question was only in his early twenties when he had died and had apparently played at the foosball table quite often earlier in his life to escape his parents’ divorce. It sucked as a backstory, really, even to the Winchesters, that his spirit got stuck to some of his happiest memories, which were made playing at a wooden table with some handles and a few of his friends. Still, that didn’t make it okay that he started killing people as soon as the table was moved outside, set to be demolished to make room for more electronic games.

Sad backstories sucked, but multiple deaths were worse.

They watched the flames for a few more minutes before stomping out what remained of the embers, the spirit having been put to rest. Thankfully, both Sam and Dean hadn’t gotten more than a few light shocks, and were unharmed compared to what their typical cases did to them. Maybe if the ghost had spent longer stuck to his object…but it was done now, no sense in going over it.

“We should probably check in on Ron, make sure he hasn’t hyperventilated enough to pass out,” Dean said as he kicked charred wood pieces off his boots. Not everyone handled learning about the paranormal as well as the Winchesters.

Sam did the same and eventually followed his brother back inside, not missing the way his head turned to look at the glowing ‘laser tag’ sign high up on the wall with an arrow pointing to the other side of the arcade.

The thought made him smile, but it was one in the morning, they were beat, and a shower to get rid of the smoke smell sounded like a good idea.

“Heya, Ron,” Dean greeted as they came up on the counter. The man thankfully had gotten himself under control, but was standing with his elbows on the glass and his head in his hands. He looked up immediately when they got closer.

“Is it done? Is he gone?” he asked hurriedly. His eyes scanned the room as if the spirit were walking in behind them.

Sam put out a hand to hopefully steady any remaining nerves. “We took care of it, the arcade is safe, I promise.”

Ron’s shoulders noticeably sagged with relief. “So…burning the table…set it free?”

Dean nodded.

“And where does it go?”

“Buddy, trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Dean assured and shook his head that time. With the ghost dealt with, Ron seemed more in control of his fear, but Dean didn’t want to screw that up by telling the man that hell did in fact exist. Demons, too. That definitely wouldn’t go over well, not with the cross hanging around the man’s neck.

Sam didn’t say anything else to counteract Dean’s decision.

“So, what now? Just go back to normal? How am I supposed to explain this to people?”

“You don’t. Most people probably won’t believe what you say. Just stick to whatever the cops or the coroner go with, and go about your days,” Sam answered.

Ron thought it over, apparently noting the serious expressions on both brothers’ faces before he decided that it would probably be best to listen to what the experts advised. “And how do I pay you back for all of this?”

Both brothers waved their hands in front of them at the same time. “Not necessary. You’re here, the ghost isn’t, that’s good enough for us.” Sam nodded in agreement.

But Ron was still thinking. He looked to both of them, swept his eyes around the arcade, and snapped his fingers. “How about a round of laser tag? On the house, of course. Get rid of that extra energy or whatever. I wasn’t planning on leaving tonight anyways, I could walk you through it.”

Sam was about to politely decline, they were beat and had “other things” to get to, namely being sleep. But then he caught the way Dean’s eyes slightly widened at the proposition. He hid it well, but Sam was accustomed to looking for his brother’s tells. Dean’s mask of indifference was back in place just as quickly as it had slipped away.

“We appreciate it, really, but we should probably head out.”

Head to another case, another monster to deal with, another day to put their lives on the line. How many days did they have left now? It was technically early morning, so 112 had slipped to 111. He’d be out of triple digits soon and the thought made his heart clench. They’d been hunting relentlessly for the past few weeks, and Sam had been up longer than Dean even most nights.

And still nothing.

No steps closer to getting Dean out of his deal.

But that little flash of hope and excitement stuck to his brother’s face was twinging something in Sam’s chest. How many more little opportunities like this would they have? Dean had done more for him on less sleep before, they could take half an hour out.

“I mean…” Sam trailed off, and Dean couldn’t school the surprised look on his face into submission. “We’re already up, get rid of the nerves, like you said. As long as it isn’t any trouble.” Dean’s jaw was clenched, otherwise it probably would’ve been hanging open.

“No, no, no, for you guys, no trouble at all. Just give me a minute to get the round set up,” he smiled at the two of them and was off. Dean waited until the man had entered the designated laser tag room before he turned to Sam.

“Seriously?!”

“What, you don’t want to?” Sam knew he hadn’t misinterpreted Dean’s somewhat hidden desire, but watching him try to explain it was always a little entertaining.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed. “I wouldn’t say no or anything, just figured you would. We’ve been working nonstop, it’s late, and you need your beauty sleep, especially with all the extra time you spend up looking through books that won’t help.”

It was Sam’s turn to look surprised. He had been trying to be careful with his extra research, he knew Dean didn’t believe there was a way out, but he and Bobby wouldn’t stop until they found one. Apparently he hadn’t been quite as incognito as he had hoped. “Well what do you expect me to do?”

“Exactly that,” Dean said with a sigh. “But man, nothing’s gonna help, alright? I’d rather you not lose any more sleep over it.”

Sure, maybe he’d give in for a day or two to give Dean some peace of mind, but nothing beyond that, not when they didn’t have much time to begin with. “Maybe this will help, huh? You’re always gloating about your ‘near perfect aim’.” Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t. “Lasers and real guns, Sammy, two very different things.”

“What, afraid I’ll get more points than you?”

It didn’t take much to challenge Dean, especially coming from Sam. He saw the exact moment Dean’s eyes narrowed and the _oh it’s on _look crossed his face. “What’s the wager?”

Sam thought for a moment. “Two week’s worth of laundry?”

One week could slide, but rarely did two go by where they escaped without a disgusting monster kill. Skipping cleaning those gory clothes was well worth some invisible lasers. Dean just shrugged. “Done. But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“And I’m not about to let you win,” Sam shot him a smirk. It was most definitely on.

When Ron came back out, he explained it to them and handed over some vests and guns. Dean called red and Sam took blue. The entrance to the room was almost completely dark save for some fluorescent paint, blue lights, and the lights coming from the vests, which were comically small on them even though they were adult sized.

“See you on the other side.” Dean clapped a hand on Sam’s back before he passed him to go to his starting point on the other side of the larger room they had walked into. Sam made a right instead towards the blue lights. The room itself was still dark, but there were large pillars and box-like structures marked with glowing paint that offered some form of protection.

Their respective charging zones were marked with their own colors. Once Sam got to his, all he had to do was wait for the countdown before the fifteen minute round started. He tested out the gun, no way it was incredibly accurate, and just from a cursory glance down the plastic barrel he could tell that he’d need to aim a bit more to the right than he actually shot.

He finished his examination right as the clock in the corner his zero and started counting down from fifteen.

Sam picked a decent first spot, though one was hard to find at his size in an area mostly made for people a foot or so shorter. He crouched around a corner outcropping where he could see the entrance to his area but Dean wouldn’t be able to see him. Dean would come over first, wanting to solidify his dominance and prowess before they really get started. That and if Sam did end up beating him, he could at least claim that he drew first blood.

It took almost a minute before he saw a dark shape and some faint red lights peek out from one of the structures closer to his designated area. Dean was actually taking it slow and steady, Sam had to give him credit for that. But Dean kept moving towards Sam’s area, allowing him to move to the other side of his corner, waiting for Dean to pass with his back to him.

As soon as Dean was a few steps in front, Sam leaned out, adjusted his aim, and fired off a few quick shots at his brother’s back panel. The lights flickered, so at least one of them hit, and Dean immediately darted to the side for cover.

Sam crossed the walkway to a different position, taking his eyes off the opposing blocks for a second as he did so. It turned out to be a fatal mistake, for the instant he wasn’t focused, Dean had taken advantage and fired off three quick shots, two of which hit Sam’s vest and one his gun.

“Need to work on your stealth, Sammy!” Dean mocked him.

“Oh yeah?” Sam called back. “And who got the first points?”

The silence was enough of an answer and Sam smiled to himself. It was so on.

They didn’t have any action for the next few minutes, though there were some quick misses as they each tried to sneak up on the other. Dean eventually had to return to his charging station since he had used up more of his fake ammo. Sam spared a glance at his. He should’ve probably taken the chance to go back to his own too, but catching Dean defenseless was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He mirrored his brother’s decisive movements, staying a few feet and a pillar out of eyeshot as he did so. Dean had to stand in the lit up archway for a few seconds as the gun recharged, and that was when Sam made his move.

He fired off as many quick rounds as he could before his own gun ran out and hastily made his exit, leaving a muttering, swearing Dean behind him.

“Yeah, real mature Sam!” The only response he got from his younger brother was a laugh. It was a low blow, sure, but the stakes were high and bragging rights higher.

Sam kept his head on a swivel as he recharged his own gun and got into a different position. The clock in the corner was winding down, with only two minutes left, and he was fairly certain he was ahead.

He strained his ears for some sort of tell where Dean would pop out of next, but there was nothing. He risked a few peeks from his hiding spot and still didn’t see him anywhere. No way Dean wasn’t planning something. But what?

He got his answer in the form of a few strikes to his back panel and he immediately whipped around, ready to fire back from behind the pillar. Only…Dean wasn’t peeking out from any pillar he could see. No way he could’ve moved back that fast.

Sam cautiously moved forward and diagonal to set up a closer position, still covered, only to be hit again in the chest plate when he moved forward. He again ducked behind cover. No way Dean was in front of him, there were just pillars and blocks and Dean would’ve had to have been standing right in front of him to get those shots off.

He feigned moving again and heard Dean’s gun go off, but thankfully none of the shots hit. Still though, Sam couldn’t figure out where his brother was.

It was infuriating.

Before he could figure it out, the clock ran down and an alarm sounded letting them know the time was up. Sam stepped out from behind his defensive position, holding the gun loosely at his side, and watched for Dean as the lights came back on.

He was met by his brother, alright, lying down on his stomach in a sniper position almost flat _on top _of one of the high rectangular pillars.

“What the…how did you get up there?” Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Dean raised a hand to wave at him in greeting, grinned, and pushed backwards to slide off the block. He walked around the other side, completely nonchalant and utterly full of himself.

“You know you can’t do that right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you write the rule book? Cuz, apparently, Mr. Referee, pretty sure hits while recharging are illegal too,” he said matter-o-factly, unable to keep the smug smile off his face before he pointed to the block he had been on. “That’s tactical positioning.”

Sam rolled his eyes but was smiling too. It was one of Dean’s finer moments along the spectrum of being unbearable. “Uh huh, yeah, sure it is.”

Dean hefted the small plastic gun over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go see whose tactics, legal or illegal, worked out better.”

Sam followed without a comment and both of them paused to take off their equipment. In the same room they had entered from were the scores.

Red: 10724

Blue: 9972

Dean hit him in celebration on the shoulder. “Almost a thousand point difference, ouch,” he hissed, “losing your touch there, Sammy.”

Sam, of course, had no idea how the actual point system worked or how reliable the ‘weapons’ were, but none of his arguing would do him any good. He wasn’t living this one down anytime soon and he knew it.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he replied with indifference that Dean would easily be able to see through.

“Hey, I don’t say, the points say, fair and square,” Dean pointed between the board and his brother. Sam just waved off his gloating, which continued as they met up with Ron in the front and Dean proclaimed how he had absolutely kicked Sam’s ass.

Ron seemed much less on edge, which at the end of the day was what mattered, and thanked them again before letting them go.

“You know, if you’re this much of a sourpuss over laser guns, we should go paint balling,” Dean suggested as they walked over to the Impala. It was parked not far from the pile of charred wood they’d made earlier.

“We’ve never been paint balling in our lives, Dean. You just want something else to try and brag about?”

Dean just shrugged and waited a moment until they were both in the car before continuing. “First time for everything. Bucket lists and all that, right?”

Sam really worked to not have the smile wipe off his face. He wouldn’t let a comment drag down how much fun he’d honestly had in the past twenty minutes. “If you find a decent place, you’re on,” he challenged instead and let the comment float to the ground between them.

“Maybe not a haunted paintball park though,” Dean muttered and started up the car.

“With our luck it’ll probably be haunted.”

Dean let out a low chuckle. “Amen to that.” He pulled out of the lot and started back toward the motel. It was a minute later when he snapped his fingers. “We’ll need towels.”

“Towels? For what?” Sam looked at him, confused.

Dean spared a glance over, grin creeping back over his face. “For you. So you don’t get neon paint all over Baby’s seats when I demolish you.”

“You can try,” was what Sam got out through slight laughs as he shook his head. The next one, he was definitely winning. Sam may have been able to stand and appreciate a lot things about his brother over the next not quite four months, but endless bragging was not one of them.

And if it checked off what was apparently one of Dean’s bucket list items too?

It was on.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on ff.n, same title and username, requests are welcome there too ;)


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